


Dreaming of Luxury

by PsychoSweetheart1



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, No editing was done to this besides a quick spell check, Pre-Fake AH Crew, Rating May Change, References to Drugs, So there may be errors, Tags May Change, This was shorter than I thought it would be, Working on other stuff but I had to vent, shitty apartments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 12:25:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13364673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsychoSweetheart1/pseuds/PsychoSweetheart1
Summary: With his apartment quite literally crumbling beneath his feet, Jeremy dreams of a better life away from his shitty situation and his shitty waiter's job.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First story I've completed and posted ANYWHERE in, well, years actually.  
> I've been trying to work on other stories, but I had to vent a bit because of my own shitty apartment situation.  
> I may add more to this, so ratings and tags may change.

This was just fucking great. Jeremy thought it couldn’t get any worse when the water in his place turned to brown sludge. Or when his microwave started spewing sparks and almost caused a fire. Hell, he thought his fucking bedroom window slipping out of it’s frame and landing on top of him while he slept was his lowest point… until his foot broke straight through the crumbling, cheap-as-fuck floor paneling on his way to take a piss at 4 in the fucking morning.

This was Jeremy’s luck. This was Jeremy’s life. This was Jeremy’s breaking point.

He yanked his phone off the nightstand, almost breaking the charger cord it was attached to, and immediately went to Google. There had to be a decent apartment that he could actually afford in Los Santos. There had to be something above this shithole in a city with the highest crime rate in the country.

He tried multiple different phrases in the search bar, and with each result his heart sank deeper and deeper. The only listing that actually matched his rent criteria was the utter piece of shit he currently sat in. ‘Affordable Luxury' was the motto, and it made Jeremy taste bile in the back of his throat reading it.

He closed his phone and walked towards the bathroom, carefully stepping around the giant hole in his floor. Even if he told his asshole landlord and the very-obviously-high-on-meth building manager about it in the morning, it’s take months before they’d even start fixing it – it’s already been over 3 months since he first complained about the water, and they haven’t even been in to check it.

Maybe he could start selling drugs? Then, he could afford a place in one of those fancy complexes downtown. With a working shower, non-crumbling floorboards, and windows that stayed put.

He scoffed at his own idea. He hadn’t even been in town for a year, where the fuck would he get a supply to sell? With the way his luck had been going, he’d buy an ounce of pot and have LSPD knocking down his flimsy door the next day.

He could still fantasize about those big spaces overlooking the city, giant sofas that cost more than his parents home back in Boston, fully stocked bar just for his pleasure. He sighed just thinking about it.  
He was brought back to reality on his way back to his bed and he had to, once again, step around the giant hole.

Maybe he could move in with Matt. His friend had recently moved in with his girlfriend, but he was sure they wouldn’t mind a short-term roommate.

He felt a draft before getting back under the covers, and he shuffled over to where his window used to be – a blanket now covered the hole to keep out the chill of the night air and the occasional animal – and went to seal up the gap with a small piece of duct tape he grabbed from his dresser.

He glanced out through the opening towards the looming towers of the city skyline and the Vinewood sign in the distance.

‘Someday' he thought to himself, shuffling back to his bed. It was still several hours before he had to get up and start his shift, and he was gonna spend that time dreaming of the luxury he couldn’t afford.


	2. Another Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy adds another entry on his list of "Reasons Why His Apartment Sucks"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I suck at summaries, I'm sorry...)  
> I decided to make this a multi-chapter thing instead of a one-shot.  
> I looked up the German words and phrases on Google, so if I got any wrong, please let me know so I can fix them.  
> Enjoy! :)

It wasn’t his phone’s alarm that woke him up the next morning, much to Jeremy’s dismay – if it was, at least Jeremy would get the temporary pleasure of throwing the small device at the nearest wall – nor was it his neighbor’s screaming at each other about some mundane thing that had happened. It was the slow, constant dripping of water from his ceiling.

His halfway unconscious mind forced his body to roll over in an attempt to ignore it until he had at least a couple more hours of sleep. He was met with a sopping pillow which released a small puddle under the slightest pressure.

“Fucking hell,” he mumbled flatly, the sour, coppery scent of the dirty liquid oozing into the air making his head swim. He finally shifted to sit up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as the remaining moisture caused half of his hair to stick to his skin, the excess trailing down his shoulders.

He looked up at the ceiling to inspect the damage. A very large discolored patch had evidently formed overnight and a steady drip fell from the center. It was hard to tell if the ceiling had warped, but he was simply going to assume that it had.

He stood up, more carefully than normal when he felt the floorboards beneath his feet buckle ever so slightly – had they always been like that and he hadn’t noticed? Or was Karma just twisting their knife deeper and deeper?

Grabbing his phone from the nightstand, he checked the time. 8:37. Great. Just 4 hours of sleep. That’s the perfect way to start the day, right? Letting out an audible sigh, he proceeded to go about his morning, ignore the constant yelling and not-so-soft thuds that echoed through the wall.

He packed a small duffle bag with his normal morning essentials: shampoo, conditioner, soap, toothbrush, toothpaste, a change of clothes (he also threw in his work clothes just in case), a towel, phone charger, and earbuds. Ever since his water went to shit (and he wouldn’t be surprised if that was literally the case) he’d gotten into a routine of showering at the gym just down the road, which also gave him the excuse to work out the past few months.

He slipped on his normal workout gear and jacket before grabbing his keys and phone. He stopped as he reached for the doorknob and glanced back at the wet mess in his bedroom. Did the discolored patch get bigger in those few moments? He probably wouldn’t be back until after his shift, so he started picturing worst case scenarios – coming home to find the ceiling broken and a literal waterfall over his bed, for one – before quickly setting down his bag by the door.

He grabbed a large soup pot that he never actually used, emptying it of the smaller cooking pots that he also never used before placing it directly under the leak. He also grabbed a few extra towels and a couple old shirts that he never wore anymore and stuffed them around the base of the pot. He finally grabbed the duct tape he’d used on his window and covered up the outlets in the room to try and prevent any shorts or sparks, just in case.

He decided at the last moment to unhook his X-Box and put it and the controllers inside an empty plastic container leftover from moving, it having been used as a makeshift table for a short while. He then placed it in a closet behind an assortment of Christmas decorations that his mother insisted he take – despite never actually putting them up during his first Christmas here – in an attempt to both keep it from getting damaged and from getting stolen.

Satisfied with his work, Jeremy grabbed his duffle bag again and left. He’d hoped to catch his landlord on the way out to inform him of the most recent damages.  
It was the first thing that’s gone right in the past 12 hours. His landlord was exiting the only working elevator, a few papers in his hands as he searched the hallway.

To say he was chubby would be polite. The man stood at about 5’1” at most and Jeremy would guess that he weighed at least 300 lbs. His hair – or what’s left of it anyway – was combed over the glaringly obvious bald spot and greased down. His thin glasses were perched on the end of his nose as he glanced down at the papers in hand. His clothes were patched and worn in various spots from years of use. It looked as if he’d either shopped at a thrift shop dedicated to 80s fashion or that he had not bought any clothes since the 80s.

“Mr. Schmidt!” Jeremy called out, earning the attention of the very plump man.

“Ah, Dooley!” He called back to Jeremy, who had lightly jogged the rest of the way down the hallway to meet him. “And how are you on this, err, morning?” His German accent was thick, as though he’d just arrived in the country two weeks ago instead of 20 years.

“Eh, been better,” Jeremy replied, eyeing the papers in Mr. Schmidt’s hands. He recognized the ‘Notice of Eviction' forms immediately, having seen them on the various doors of his neighbors. Even though Jeremy knew he was being paranoid and had done nothing to warrant one, he always worried about coming home after a rough shift to find one of those pieces of paper taped haphazardly to his door. “Who are those for?” He finally asked.

Mr. Schmidt glanced down, “Oh these?” He folded them over lightly, blocking the names from Jeremy’s view, “these are for a couple of, ehm...,” he struggled to find the correct word in English, “ _undankbarer_ people who have had too many noise complaints against them.”

Jeremy chuckled slightly at the older man’s language choice, “I dunno what, uh, ‘oon-dank-barrier' means, but go get ‘em!” He exaggerated his mistranslation in hopes of lightening the man’s mood.

Schmidt snorted, obviously amused at Jeremy’s poor grammar, “Nothing you should concern yourself with, _kinderl_. Now, how can I help you?”

Jeremy told him about the floorboards last night and the leak this morning. He also asked how much longer it was going to take before his window was replaced and the water was fixed (although he said everything in much nicer terms than what he was thinking).

“Ach,” Schmidt responded, annoyance clear on his voice, “that _unecht_ manager I hired has been nothing but trouble!”

Evidently, from what Jeremy gathered, this wasn’t the first complaint of shit not getting done that he’s heard. He silently wondered how many other people had missing windows and floors. “Why don’t you just fire his ass and get someone else?”

Schmidt sighed, “helping an old friend out by giving her son a job. He is more trouble than he is worth, though.”

The awkward silence that followed made Jeremy uncomfortable, and he briefly debated asking about his landlord’s day. Although, that debated was almost immediately squelched, know full well that he’d be stuck there for hours listening to some story about Germany. “Welp,” he began as he started walking towards the elevator, “I gotta get going. I’ll see ya around, Mr. Schmidt.”

“Of course, Dooley!” Schmidt said, tone so suddenly cheerful that it made Jeremy a bit uneasy, “And I will have someone check out the apartment as soon as possible. _Auf wiedersehen_!”

They waved at each other as the elevator doors closed. The guy was actually pretty nice, despite what Jeremy’s sleep-deprived and pissed off mind was thinking the night before. Maybe he just didn’t know how to run a goddamn apartment building. Or maybe he just didn’t give a shit about his job, but still wanted people to think he was trying. Either way, Jeremy didn’t have confidence in anything being fixed any time soon.

He exited the building and started walking towards the gym, pulling his jacket tighter as the chill of the night before hadn’t dissipated. He glanced over at the skyline above him, silently wondering if the fancy apartment buildings had their own private gyms.

He sighed as he walked, once again imagining himself lounging on a giant leather couch next to giant bay windows, controller in hand as he played Halo on a 75” television.

‘ _Someday_.’

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know how I did and how I could improve.  
> <3 you all!


End file.
